


The Unexpected Roommate

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life, pre-slash if you want it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: [Takes place during the first year of the partnership.]  Napoleon had told Illya to make himself at home in his apartment whenever he wanted.  He never actually expected Illya to take him up on it.  Nor does he mind.





	The Unexpected Roommate

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in my "Boudetase Affair" arc, specifically after "Bolero of Fire" and the "Regret" saga.

Ever since getting assigned to Illya as a partner in their quest to take down the Baron of THRUSH, Napoleon had found solo missions to have rapidly lost their appeal. Previously, he relished them, getting a chance to flex his own skills without worrying about previous partners that he simply hadn’t meshed with. But things were different now; he enjoyed Illya’s company, and solo missions were now more of a chore to him now.

Solo missions had been a necessity lately; Illya was still recovering from an intense interrogation session that THRUSH had put him through. Though significantly improved from where he had been since his rescue, Medical had still not cleared him for missions, much to his vexation, and both Napoleon and Illya were awaiting the day when Illya would finally be cleared.

Napoleon now entered his apartment, aiming to freshen up before going next door to see how Illya was. He paused as he noticed freshly-washed breakfast dishes in the drying rack and a glass of half-finished orange juice sitting on the breakfast table.

Well, it was obviously Illya having made himself at home while he had been away—not that he minded, as Napoleon had frequently told him to treat the place like his own. He smiled to himself, placed his luggage down and opened the washroom door.

He stopped, staring as he saw Illya, clad in a towel, giving himself a shave in front of the sink.

“Oh, welcome back,” Illya said, as he noticed Napoleon. “I hope you don’t mind—I was out of shaving cream.”

“Not at all, but, ah…”

“Well, I figured I might as well take a shower while I was here. I’ll be out of here in just a moment; my apologies.”

“Not a problem,” Napoleon said. He glanced at his partner—at the wounds and bruises he had obtained from the THRUSH interrogation. They were clearly healing, which was a relief to see.

“I am feeling much better,” Illya said, sensing what was on his partner’s mind. “Thanks in part to your care and generosity.”

“I’m glad to have helped,” Napoleon said, sincerely.

“You did,” Illya insisted, as he finished up his shave. “Very much so.” He sighed in contentment. “And thank you for letting me use your washroom; it’s all yours. There should be plenty of hot water left.”

“Oh, great!” Napoleon said. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“…Baba Yaga slept on your pillow last night.”

“…Ah. Well, I hope she enjoyed it.”

“She did. She still is; she didn’t want to get off of it this morning, and I knew when I was beaten.”

“…That kitten has you wrapped around her paw.”

Illya pondered this for a moment, and then shrugged, not denying it.

“You aren’t too bothered by your pillow getting usurped, either, I noticed.”

“Well, she looks at you with those green eyes of hers, and how are you supposed to resist?” Napoleon said, shrugging.

“You don’t.”

“Ah.”

A loud mew came from the direction of Napoleon’s bedroom.

“It appears Her Ladyship is demanding her breakfast,” Illya said. “Excuse me, Napoleon.”

Napoleon shook his head in amusement. He wasn’t sure how his life had come to this, but he was certainly determined to enjoy it.


End file.
